Death does not always tear apart
by SunshineCountess
Summary: I'm not complaining about the new ship that has set sail, but I am intrigued as to how it happened. This is my take on the romance that flared up between Dr. Clarkson and Isobel.
1. Newly buried, April 1919

_I'm thinking of this as a multi chapter, but won't bother if you don't like it. FF is after all for the fans… Please review._

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He stared at the papers in front of him. It was midday and nothing had been done as it should have been on any other (normal) day. Every doctor prays to God never to experience what he has experienced, but very few of them have that prayer answered. And he does not count himself amongst the blessed ones. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said gruffly.

The nurse peeked around the door. "Doctor, we are ready for midday rounds, when you are."

"Thank you, Nurse Logan. I'll be there in a few minutes."

She nodded and closed the door. He lent back in his chair. Never in his life had the nurses informed him that they were ready. They weren't slack, but he was usually more on the ball. That means that word has spread. He, Richard Clarkson, has become a condemned doctor. One who cannot be trusted. And who can blame them? Ms Livinia Swire is dead because he did not pay enough attention to her. He should have had a look at her sooner. Now she was newly buried. He groaned and let his head fall forward. That poor, poor girl. He felt tears of uselessness and regret burn behind his eyes. He would never be able to face Matthew Crawley again.

"Doctor Clarkson?"

He jumped up at the sound of the voice at the door. What the devil does the nurse…Oh... He froze when he saw Mrs. Crawley, still in her funeral garb, looking at him with a bewildered expression on her face.

"Mrs. Crawley? What can I do for you?" His question was more out of shock and habit than anything else.

"Nothing, Doctor," she said, while still hovering at the door. "Uhm, may I come in?"

"Yes, of course!" he almost shouted. How stupid could he be? "Please, sit down."

He took her coat and pulled a chair for her across from his one. "How may I help you, Mrs. Crawley?" This time it was more a question than a reflex.

"I only came to see how you were doing." He could hear the slight iciness in her voice, which bewildered him even more. At this time he wondered why she did not already burn him at the stake for his negligence.

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Crawley?"

"Doctor, I can see from the look on your face that you expect some kind of retaliation from me, but I assure you there won't be any."

He only stared at her. How could this be? How could someone be so forgiving? After a moment's silence he cleared his throat. He had to try and express his feelings. "Mrs. Crawley, please don't take my silence as unfeelingness. I just don't know how to express to you the depth of my sorrow." He looked down. He did not want her to see the tears. Even after decades as a doctor some cases really got to him. Numbness was another one of the blessings not bestowed on him.

"I know, Dr. Clarkson. You remember that my husband was also a doctor, and he also had cases of which he was terribly ashamed."

Her words stung him, but they were true. He was ashamed. Ashamed and bitterly, bitterly sorry.

She got up. "I only came to say this, and I must confess it took me a while to get to this point…" She trailed off and looked out the window, "I understand some part of what you are going through. I'm not going to use the word forgiveness, because it is futile…But I…understand."

He did not know what to say. Here stood a woman that irritated him so much he could crawl out of his skin from it, and now she showed him more compassion than he ever showed her, and certainly more than he ever deserved.

"Good day, Doctor Clarkson." She turned to the door without looking at him again.

He nodded and whispered, "Good day, Mrs. Crawley…and thank you. Your words have more value than even you would know."

She turned at his words and gave him a small smile.

After the door clicked shut he still stood. Slowly a conviction claimed his spirit; she might not have forgiven him for ruining her son's life, but by God, he was going to try and earn it!


	2. Old Habits and New Ventures, May 1919

_I'm keeping the chapters short, because I'm thinking of them more as missing scenes. _

_Disclaimer: I want to state most emphatically that the characters do not belong to me, that Julian Fellowes is a genius and that I am only riding on his coat tails and making use of his wonderful characters._

_Please review, advise, criticise - whatever rocks your boat. It really helps my writing to know what the readers think. Thanks! _

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He had thought about Mrs. Crawley's visit all week, and the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that he wanted to make up for his mistake in some way. And, he thought proudly, he was, if nothing else, a man of his word. He did try to be friendlier and oppose her less. He could not tell if she had noticed, but he did not care, her noticing the change was not his concern. All he wanted was atonement.

His big chance came soon after. As per usual on a Friday afternoon, he was on his way from the hospital when he saw her coming out of Crawley house. She was going somewhere. Ever since the death of Lavinia she had been taking Fridays off. Now, before he would not have put in an effort to greet her. If she had seen him, he would have docked his hat, but not more now he found himself speeding up. Her iciness had still to be melted.

"Good day, Mrs. Crawly," he said catching up to her. "How are you?"

She turned in surprise, "Oh, Doctor Clarkson, I'm well, thank you." She was obviously very far away in thought and for a moment, he thought of bidding her good bye again. He did not want to overstep his bounds, but then she added, "Are you on your way home?"

"No," he said, not sure how to continue. They have very rarely had a conversation outside of the hospital and he found himself a fish out of water.

"Oh, will you be back at the hospital later? There is something in particular I must discuss with you."

"I have time. Would you like to discuss it now?"

She stopped in her tracks, a fleeting look of surprise on her face, "Oh, no, I could not be such a bother. You go to wherever it is you were off to. I'll see you..."

"Mrs. Crawley," he interrupted her, "I was going to the Grantham Arms for lunch, I am really in no hurry. What would you like to discuss?"

"Well, I have a new business venture...no...that's not the right word, a new vocation in mind."

"A new vocation? Away from the hospital?" He frowned at this.

"Yes, but only if it could be managed," she said quickly as to not upset him.

"Would you like to join me for lunch? Then we could discuss it." He found the invitation role of his tongue much easier than he had expected.

She looked at him for a moment, "Lunch? You mean, together?"

He almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself in time. "Yes, together," he said with a somewhat forced smile, "Or I don't know how we are to discuss this business venture of yours otherwise."

"You have a point." She still hesitated. She really did not expect to have lunch with Doctor Clarkson, not after seven years of, well, not having lunch together. It was a completely foreign concept.

"I think a business lunch is quite in order, Mrs. Crawley," he wanted her to know that his intentions were pure.

"Very well, thank you, I shall." She smiled still a bit surprised, but not unpleasantly, and they started walking to the Grantham Arms.

* * *

"So, you see, or I hope you see, that I will no longer be able to work at the hospital." She took a sip of her tea and looked at him.

"I understand completely, don't think I don't, but do you really think working with...well..." he did not want to flare up her temper, "...women of the night are such a good idea?" he said it in a whisper, as there were many people around them.

"Doctor Clarkson," she said a little archly, "Cousin Violet has been very thorough in her discouragement. Please don't you do the same."

"I apologise, it was not my intention to discourage you," he said biting back a smile. He could see her get riled and he had to admit that for once it was fun not being on the receiving end of her iron justifications of her plans.

"You and I both know that if we stuck to good ideas, the world would be a lost cause," she said after a moment.

"Mmm, yes, I see your point; I suppose I just don't want to give you up..." Her eyes widened slightly and her cup hovered mid-air. "...as a nurse." he added decisively. That almost came out terribly wrong, he thought relieved as he saw her relax and blush a little.

"My, my, Doctor Clarkson, is that a compliment?" She smiled to ease away her discomfort. They had only just gotten used to having business lunches; any other sort would be absolutely out of the question, she thought.

"I know we do not see eye to eye often," he said earnestly. She raised an eyebrow, "well, mostly," he added, "but despite our differences, I hope you know that I still think of you as an excellent nurse." It was said more as a statement than a question.

"Thank you, Doctor," She looked down into her cup briefly, but he saw the fleeting vulnerability in her eyes, "it's been long since I last heard it said so explicitly."

"Well, then, let me reaffirm that; you are an exceptional nurse." He looked intently at her until she looked at him and saw that he had meant every word.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "Of course I won't leave until you have found a suitable replacement."

"Thank you. I will make work of that tomorrow. Now," he said refilling her cup, "Shall we drink to your new venture?"

She beamed a smile, "Yes, and to new business lunches. This was more enjoyable than I had thought it would be."

He gave a laugh, "Well then, to new ventures and lunches," he said clinking her glass, and to old habits dying easy, he added mentally.


	3. Fighting her corner, October 1919

_I apologise for the long wait. Hope you like this. Please R/R._

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"Holy Moses!"

The nurse jumped at Richard's outcry. She looked to where he stared at the morning paper. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

He looked at the heading again: "Crawley in cat fight."

"Doctor?"

"Oh…nothing…I don't know…I'm going to the Abbey." He stomped out the nurse's office.

"You could just phone, Doctor." Nurse Logan looked at him sceptically. He was not usually one for such vehemence, and now that Mrs. Crawley was not here anymore he had no reason to get so fired up.

"You are right," he said and stormed to his office.

"Hallo, Mrs. White, would you put me through to the Abbey…oh, wait… rather to Crawley House."

He waited for Molesley to answer the phone.

"Good morning, Crawley House. Molesley sp…"  
"Molesley, it's Doctor Clarkson, may I speak to Mrs. Crawley?"

"Oh, Doctor, good morning. She's not in."

"What do you mean she's not in? Didn't she come home yesterday?"

"Yes, she did, but she had an appointment for tea with the Dowager. She had a bit of a situation yesterday…"

"I know. That's why I'm calling. It was in the papers."

"Oh, the Dowager won't like that… The Crawley name being dragged into such an affair."

"Oh, stuff…!" He stopped dead as his office door opened softly and Mrs. Crawley stepped in silently, "Never mind, Molesley, she just walked in."

He slammed down the phone before Molesley could answer, leaving a befuddled butler on the other side.

"Now," she said at his scowl, "Don't you give me an earful as well. I've just come from a summons at the Dower House." She came in and sat down. Over the past few months, an easy friendship had developed between them and she had long since discarded the normal rules of conduct between colleagues in his company. Now they were just friends.

"I'll try not to," he said sitting down. "Tell me what happened."

"Didn't you read the papers?" she asked her brow arched.

"Only the headline."

"Oh, what is it with people only reading the headlines? That's what Cousin Violet did and it took me near enough to an hour to calm her down and set her straight."

"It sounds normal." He could not help a smile. He had learned in the past few months just how entertaining it could be to fight her corner. It meant that her barbs and scoldings were directed at someone else and he could just sit back and be a spectator. "But tell me, what happened," he said again.

"It was just a fight between two women and their..." she blushed slightly..."their agent."

Good grief, he told her she would get into trouble! "Ah, and how did you get involved?" he asked, biting back the reprimand.

"I was teaching them a new set of stitches and in walked this ox of a man, demanding his two girls back. Naturally I couldn't let that happen..."

"You tried to stop him?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, of course I did!" She looked at him as if he had asked her the dumbest question and he certainly had, for when did such a thing as a pimp ever stopped Isobel Crawley, he thought.

"What happened then?" He had to bite his cheek not to scold her. Even though he had won her friendship it did not exempt him from the occasional telling off.

"Well, the girls got riled. He got riled. And before I knew it I had to run for an officer out in the street. If you think about it, it was to be expected from such a crowd. I don't know why everyone is getting so hot under the collar about."

"Well, I doubt any of them liked the headline 'Crawley caught in fight with pimp.'"

She tossed her head and looked out the window with a very stubborn, and he thought, very enduring expression on her face. "Oh, it'll blow over in a few days."

"I think they might have been more worried about your well-being."

"I doubt that," she said drily.

"Oh, come now, Mrs. Crawley, you can't mean that?" He had wanted to say that he cared, but that would be wildly inappropriate.

She only looked at him, but he could see that she silently admitted that she was wrong. Instead she said, "I wanted to come by and ask whether you would help me find someone to look after them."

"You mean, like a doctor?"

"No, I mean like a circus trainer, of course I mean a doctor."

Oh, and he got stung, again, he thought. "I could make some enquiries. What do you mean by 'looking after them'?"

"I think they need some time to recuperate. A situation like this can be easily avoided if we can send them away to rest."

"Oh, if that is what you are looking for, I know just the man." He opened a drawer and scribbled a number on a piece of paper. "Here is the number of a Doctor Carter. He runs a centre for soldiers, but I think his wife would be able to help you with your cause. Tell him I referred you."

She beamed a smile at him. "Thank you, Doctor." She got up.

"I'll walk you out. I have a staff meeting in twenty minutes."

At the entrance of the hospital she suddenly stopped causing him to put his hand in the small of her back to keep him from bumping into her. "You know, Doctor," she said looking at him, oblivious to the near collision. "I would never have thought that you would fight my corner."

"I have to admit to you, Mrs. Crawley, that it is rather a foreign thought to me too, but," He took his hand from her back and wonder silently at the tingling feeling running up his arm, "I'm glad that we are friends now."

She smiled sweetly and nodded, "Good bye, Doctor."

As she turned from him, he could smell her perfume. Rose and something else. The smell sparked another series of tingles, now in his stomach. He turned and walked to his office.

"Doctor, are you alright?" Nurse Logan asked when he came in with a furrowed brow.

He looked at her absent-mindedly, "Mmm, I think I'm coming down with something."

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_I have another chapter almost ready, with two more to follow...possibly. Let me know what you think._


	4. A phoenix from the ashes, January 1920

_This is very short, but hope you like it none the less. Please R&R. Thanks for the reviews._

_:)_

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"Doctor Clarkson!"

He turned at the sound of her voice. She skipped down the curb in front of Crawley House. He smiled at the way her features sparkled with apparent good news. "Good morning, Mrs Crawley, you're looking as though you want to outshine the winter sun this morning."

"Well, I have good reason to shine…" She beamed at him and put her hand on his arm

Oh, no, that clenched feeling was back in his stomach, he thought. He could only say, "Oh?" in response.

"They're engaged," she stated, lightly shaking his arm, unable to contain her excitement.

"Who?" He really had to do some tests…. This faint feeling he had on and off, it was ridiculous

"Oh, you silly man, Matthew and Lady Mary!"

His felt the shock and relief course through him, "Mrs Crawley! I'm so happy for you! Congratulations." He bent forward and kissed her cheek. He blushed profusely at his forwardness. "I beg your pardon, but…"

She laughed, "It's perfectly alright, Doctor. Under the circumstances it's quite acceptable."

He smiled, for a moment he had forgotten himself. In an attempt to regain some composure, to say nothing of dispelling the jelly-feeling he had in his legs, he said, "Well, Mrs. Crawley, I'm guessing you have a lot to give thanks to," he held his arm for her. "May I walk with you to church?"

"Certainly you may, thank you." She took his offered arm and they fell into easy step towards the church. Richard felt as if a weight has been lifted from his heart. Of course she had not said it explicitly, but he knew she had told him as a way to tell him everything was alright. He had finally been forgiven.

As he led her into church, he let go of her arm to guide her into the pew, lightly putting his hand on her back. He was aware of what he was doing and that it did not bother him so much, being so intimate. She sat down and he took his seat next to her, the little voice in his head still being ignored.

"You know, Doctor Clarkson, I have to make a confession" She had leaned closer and was whispering to him, her perfume befuddling his brain even more than his illness.

"Well, we are in a church, Mrs. Crawley," he whispered back, arching his brow, "What is your confession?"

"For a long time I was so very angry at you…" she trailed off and fleetingly looked into his eyes. He could see that she had a battle inside herself.

He became very still at her words. This was his absolution. His atonement, he was sure of it.

She continued, "I was angry at you, but after everything that has happened I can see now that even the darkest nightmare may have a tail of light in the end."

She took his hand to make him look at her. He searched her gaze and saw no resentment. "You lied, Mrs. Crawley, that wasn't a confession as much as a absolution." He had to make sure that everything between them was finally alright.

"That's what friends do, Doctor Clarkson, they forgive each other." She still held his hand, "I'm sorry it was so long in the coming."

He smiled sincerely, only squeezed her hand, and then let it go, for he had no words. The little voice in his head finally broke out, finally giving him a diagnosis for his symptoms.

Oh, God, he thought, more in prayer than outcry: He had fallen in love with Isobel Crawley!

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_Do you want another chapter?_


	5. The loved and the lost, August 1920

_Not so sure about this chapter... Please read and review._

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Lady Grantham's wailing still rang in his ears although he was already in the Great Hall. He came to a standstill, trying to regain his thoughts and reigning in his emotions. Sybil Crawley was dead, and he could have saved her. He could have saved her! He leaned against the bannister, gripping it until he could almost hear his knuckles crack.

He was torn from his agony by Matthew's voice, "Doctor…" Matthew stood at the top of the stairs, no doubt giving him space to process what had just happened.

Doctor Clarkson recollected himself, "Yes, Mr. Crawley."

Matthew approached him carefully, his blue eyes almost reflecting his pale face. "I need to phone my mother…"

Richard's composure nearly broke at the mention of Isobel. He thought of her alone at Crawley House. Lord Grantham would go to old Lady Grantham to tell her, but Matthew had to stay with Mary. She would not break and grieve in front of anyone but him, and she needed grieving now.

"If you'll permit me, Mr. Crawley, I'll go and inform your mother."

Matthew nodded, "I think it best, under the circumstances."

Richard nodded determinedly, "I'll go at once," and without any further adieu he left the Abbey.

He looked at her standing in the foyer with her nightgown tightly wrapped around her. She only stared at him, her hands covering her mouth.

"Mrs. Crawley, I'm sorry to be the one to give you such… nightmarish news, but Mr. Crawley felt it necessary that you be told."

"I understand why you came," she whispered, meaning that she was not angry at her son for sending her best friend to break the news to her.

He shook his head, biting his cheek. He wanted to shout, to tear the world apart. She did not know that for once it was not only their friendship and his feelings for her that drove him to her, but the absolute repulsion he felt for the house, and the family.

"Dr. Clarkson…" She had stepped closer and had her hand on his arm. Only by her touch he realised that he had drifted into a such dark thoughts.

She could see that there was something he was not telling her. She could see the white hot pain and anger he was feeling at that moment. They had known each other long enough, even as colleagues for her to read his face. "Doctor Clarkson, what are you not telling me?"

He stared at her and after a moment he breathed, "I could have saved her…They would not let me…"

She led him to the couch and seated him. I found it ironic that he had come to comfort her, but that she was the one comforting him. "What happened?"

September, 1920

Good, grief, he thought. Ever since that night at Crawley House, the night when she had briefly hugged him in comfort it is as if his body had no control whenever he saw her thereafter. Case in point, his heart was racing. His mouth went dry – it was a miracle he could speak. She had just entered his office, looking terribly troubled.

"Mrs Crawley?" he sounded like a damn frog! He got up to take her coat.

She let him help her and took a seat opposite him. She was quiet only a moment before she spoke, "They are suffering."

Somehow he knew it was Lord and Lady Grantham she was talking about. Somehow the past month had all been about them. Lady Violet had already been at his neck about reconciling them.

"I know." That was all he could say. More would have been to defend himself, and his beliefs and he knew that to be wrong.

"It's not like them to fight. I mean, they fight, but not like this." She stood up and went to the window.

This was not like her, the fear and heaviness in her voice. He joined her at the window and he noted that no-one was outside. "Mrs. Crawley, they are going through a terrible time – something that I can't fully understand, but I'm sure they'll come through it."

"I'm not," she whispered. She looked at him and he could almost hear her ask the same question that the Dowager had asked him only the day before. He said nothing.

"Doctor Clarkson, I know that you were wronged and that that thick-headed, pompous buffoon…" she took a deep breath, "I apologise… that other doctor did not do his job, but this situation has caused a rift between Lord and Lady Grantham, one that they might not weather on their own…"

"Mrs. Crawley…" He wanted to stop her from asking. He did not know if he could live with himself if he actually lied to his patients.

She silenced him with her hand on his chest. "Doctor Clarkson, please, you have to help them."

"Why does everyone think I'm the one to help them?" he pleaded. He could not think straight with her so close to him, with her hand on his chest. Her damn perfume was a danger. "Why are you so terrified, Mrs Crawley?"

"Because, if they can't weather this storm, there is just a little less hope for any of us to weather ours. They've always come through whatever storm was raging, and God knows there've been some storms…" She stepped away from him. "I apologise, Doctor Clarkson, I hadn't meant to put you in a difficult position; I'm just being interfering again." She smiled at him, and that smile together with the sadness in her eyes had convinced him.

"I'll have a talk with them."

Her smile dazzled him. "Thank you, Doctor Clarkson," she said and fleetingly touched his arm again, and then she was gone.

He went to his desk and pulled out his note pad. He had to write the Dowager a note…


	6. The darkest nightmare, September 1921

_Last chapter. I'm not even going to begin to attempt a storyline for this. I'll leave that to the guru that is Julian Fellowes. Please R & R_

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The darkest nightmare. That is what she had said to him three years ago. Even the darkest nightmare has a tail of light. He honestly did not see it this time. He saw her come in with the family, looking slightly perturbed. Obviously because Matthew had not come to fetch them as he had said he would.

He had just come from the morgue, where they had taken Matthew Crawley's broken body. Thank the Lord they did not see him come in like that, but now he had to break the news. They were on their way towards him. He took a deep breath.

"Doctor Clarkson," said Lady Grantham with a beaming smile, "thank you so much." She gripped his hand with hers in thanks. He could do nothing but nod. How was he going to give them the news?

Lord Grantham also profusely thanked him, no doubt also feeling that some score has been settled between them.

"Where is Matthew?" asked Edith. She was more perceptible than the others.

"He is no doubt with Mary and my grandson," said Isobel with a sparkling smile. She absolutely floored him at that moment, her smile, her happiness, her beauty.

"He is not," he looked at her. Please just see what I have to tell you in my eyes, he thought as he looked at her.

"I'm sorry we're barging in on them, but I could not wait any longer," said Lady Grantham and she pushed past him and took Isobel's arm as they made for Mary's room.

Just then Anna came towards them. "Lady Mary has sent me to fetch you..." she said sweetly and smiling, but then she frowned, "Oh, where is Mr. Crawley?" She looked at the doctor.

Here it was...the moment. The nightmarish moment. "Isobel..."

That caught her attention, and everyone else's for they had never heard Doctor Clarkson address her by her Christian name.

"Doctor Clarkson, what's the matter? Where _is _my son?" She turned away from Cora and came towards him.

"Mrs. Crawley," he stepped closer, "There was an accident..."

She gasped and sagged and he instinctively caught her at her shoulders. "Matthew did not make it."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I mean that Matthew did not suffer at all. There was a head-on-head collision and he did not suffer at all..." he had to tell her straight, use the word, "He died instantly."

She did not scream, she just started shaking and collapsed into his arms and he caught her. He held onto her and looked at the Earl. He was comforting his wife and daughter. Anna stood alone, silently weeping.

* * *

He looked down at her, sleeping in the hospital bed. He had deemed it wise to admit her for shock. He briefly looked at her chart and then went to sit on the chair beside her. Her sleeping face was turned towards him, the pain still etched on it, even in sleep.

The past few hours have been the worst of his life – even the war had not been this bad. She moaned slightly and he reached out to stroke her hair. He should not be doing this, but he did not care who saw him. She opened her eyes and instantly began to cry.

"Richard... Richard...help him... help him..." her grief sent spasms through her and she clutched the sheets in an attempt to fight the feelings that was enveloping her.

"Isobel, I'm so sorry I couldn't help him..." He took her hand and held it, another flaw in his usually pristine bedside manner, and then he stood up and took her into his arms.

Her sobs brought Nurse Logan into the room. She did not bat an eye at the Doctor cradling the broken Mrs Crawley. "Shall I bring another sleeping draft, Doctor?" Her blue eyes understood his pain.

"Yes, I think that would be the best."

She brought it within moments and he made Isobel sit upright. "Here, you have to drink this."

She spluttered at the bitter taste and pushed it away.

"No, you have to take this. It'll give you a dreamless sleep."

"I'll have to drink this for the rest of my life then." She swallowed the rest and Nurse Logan took away the glass.

He settled her back into bed and turned to get his chair, but her hand caught his wrist. "Don't leave."

"I'm only getting my chair. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep." He pulled his chair closer.

Her eyes were drooping already. "Don't leave me, please..." she slurred as she drifted away.

In that moment, he realised how selfish his motivations for marriage had been. He had been in love with her. He had felt deep friendship towards her, yes, but he had been more befuddled by the externals, the perfume, the excitement of the chase, her smile, the accidental touches and the loneliness in his own heart. But she had turned him down. She had turned him down and he had been embarrassed, because he realised now, he had been selfish in his wanting of her as a wife. But that all disappeared in the present moment.

He was not merely in love with her anymore. He loved her.

"I'll never leave you, Isobel."


End file.
